


Heart Shaped

by lovelyauras



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Slow Burn, T'chucky - Freeform, Wakanda, WinterPanther - Freeform, bucky is an awkward loser, but its okay because they're awkward together, otp: get rekt, so is t'challa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyauras/pseuds/lovelyauras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I must retrieve a specific ingredient from deep within the forest, to counteract the effects of M’Baku’s weapon. Due to the circumstances, I am unable to do so alone. If you agree to accompany me, I will reconsider turning you in to my friends in New York City.”<br/>“I’ll tell you, Your Highness, that ain’t a lot to go on,” Bucky said, “but it’s more than enough for me.” T’Challa let out a breath. “When do we start?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! I'm on a mini hiatus at the moment so I can prepare for my finals. Don't worry though, I'll be definitely be back as soon as school gets out
> 
> thank you <3 <3 <3

_River, get to the river, get to the river, then you can lose it_. Bucky could only afford one linear thought process at a time. _Can’t smell you, can’t find you, can’t eat you_. That was the logic, anyway. Whatever the hell was chasing him was damn fast and twice as graceful. And whatever it was, it seemed big. But Bucky couldn’t even hear the thing behind him. Then again, the wet branches smacking him in the face were a bit distracting.

_Should be nearly there_. The sound of water was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, but the White Nile still wasn’t visible. _Almost_. Bucky tried to pump his legs even faster, but he was going to give out soon. If felt like he had been running for ages, and the thumps of his feet on the forest floor were growing more unsteady. The suspense was unbearable; he had to check. Against his better judgement, he looked back over his shoulder to see if his pursuer was still coming. Not a half second later his foot caught, and Bucky was falling. In his head, he cursed the African terrain. _Bucky Barnes, Cause of Death: a fucking tree root in the middle of some rainforest_.

His hands flailed in front of his body, ready to tuck, to roll, to do something. But instead there was a splash. Apparently the river was closer than he thought. Bucky shut his eyelids tight and sucked in as much air as he could. The only thing he could hope for was that his body didn’t betray him and shut down from the shock of the water, even if it wasn’t cold. He sent a violent prayer to whatever the hell might be listening and tried to remain as still as possible.

Bucky strained his ears. He could go for several minutes without oxygen, but he wasn’t a fish. He had to breathe. The water lapped gently above him, and everything seemed peaceful enough. Maybe luck was on his side today. _30 more seconds_ , he bargained with his screaming lungs. 

Half a minute later, a head of long brown hair broke the surface of the water. Bucky shook his head, sending water droplets everywhere, and wiped his face. His chest heaved with each intake of air. Nothing immediately jumped on him and started tearing him to pieces. He tilted his head back, soaking up the sun.

“You’re much faster than most of the intruders that come to Wakanda,” said a rich voice from above him. Bucky felt his heart seize up, and he bit back a scream of surprise. He was much more jumpy these days. Though to be fair, he had been expecting an animal. Not a thinking human being capable of communication and reasoning. _Shit_. The fact that he had to deal with a person greatly complicated his situation. The fact that said person seemed perfectly capable of keeping up with him complicated it even more so. Underestimating them would result in something _very_ bad, Bucky could tell. 

The voice came from a man in a tight black suit of armor that covered his entire body, even his face. The man was crouching, elbows resting on his knees, but he was breathtakingly still. His shoulders were relaxed and his head was slightly tilted, as though Bucky was a particularly fascinating piece of prey that he couldn’t decide whether or not to kill. Ease and power radiated from him. It was terrifying. 

“Were you the one chasing me?” Bucky finally asked.

“I was.”

Bucky looked at him, still somewhat amazed that a human had been chasing him. He hadn’t encountered anyone who could match him physically. Except for Steve. The thought made Bucky want to grimace, but instead he shook his head. Seeing that the man wasn’t planning to continue he asked, “There a reason why?” He had to keep the man talking until he found a way to get out of this. He was still in the river, which made things more difficult. It was too wide to try and cross, the man would surely catch him by the time he swam to the other side.

“Was it not clear? You are trespassing on Wakandan grounds. If you were not who you are, I would have driven you out already,” the man said. His tone implied that being driven out was far from the harshest thing that would have happened to him. Bucky’s heart skipped, and his mouth felt dry. If this man knew who he was-

“You are James Buchanan Barnes, are you not?” The man indicated Bucky’s arm with a slight nod. _Fuck._ The shiny silver limb did tend to be a giveaway to those familiar enough with him. Bucky stayed silent. The question obviously did not require an answer. Bucky didn’t think he could talk anyway. Everything had suddenly gotten so much worse.

“I recommend that you come with me, Mr. Barnes. Your compliance is not strictly necessary, but you seem a man intelligent enough to realize when a cause is lost.” The man’s fingers drummed against his knee. The metallic claws on each digit seemed to glint. Bucky hadn’t noticed those. He nodded solemnly. It wasn’t a threat. It didn’t have to be. The only thing he could really be concerned about it how this strange man knew him. And what kind of trouble he’d be in for because of it.

“Good. Follow me, and try not to lose your footing this time.”

 

The two men walked side by side through the forest. Bucky knew it was so he couldn’t run away. Not that he’d have a chance of outrunning this man without a two mile head start. And despite going much slower this time, the forest floor was still giving him hell. His chance for an escape would have to wait until he could get a better grip of his surroundings. In the meantime, his clothes were dripping with the White Nile water, and it seemed like there was a cloud of mosquitoes surrounding him. _Damn Africa_ , Bucky thought savagely. 

Catman, as Bucky had unceremoniously dubbed him in his head, on the other hand, looked as graceful as ever. He stepped over every rock and tree root as though he himself had put them there. The confidence and surety of his movement was entrancing. He obviously knew exactly where he was going. 

Bucky grew more upset with himself with each passing step. Why had he picked Africa? Of all the places in the world? He knew the answer of course. _Because you didn’t kill anybody here_ , his brain supplied. At least, not on this part of the continent. Not that Bucky knew for sure. From what he could tell, the only African blood he could have on his hands would have been from South Africa, where the Apartheid had gotten particularly vicious. Maybe some parts of Egypt. The rest of the continent lacked the political history needed in order for Hydra to find it important. Hydra’s supremacist nature considered Africa to be “beneath them.” But just in case, Bucky had picked Wakanda. The country had had no dealings with outsiders in centuries. He certainly wouldn’t have been given orders to assassinate someone from such a small, private nation? That was the idea, at least. So far, he seemed to be correct in his assumption. No flashback inducing occurrences yet. Everything in the nation was completely new to him. Not to mention, it was hot. The glaring African sun allowed him to forget, even temporarily, what it was like to be frozen. 

Bucky frowned to himself. However strategic he thought he had been in picking Wakanda to lay low in, he had obviously been mistaken. What he needed to do now was figure out a way to get _out_. In the meantime, a bit of information wouldn’t hurt.

“You gotta name, Catman?” Bucky glanced over to the man.

“I do. However it is not of your concern at the moment.”

Bucky played nonchalant. “Whatever. I’ll just keep calling you ‘Catman’ then.”

The man said nothing, but Bucky would have sworn he heard him exhale a little harder. Okay, frustration he could work with.

“Where’re we going?”

“I am taking you to the palace. There arrangements will be made to take you out of this country,” Catman still wouldn’t look at him.

“Sounds good to me.” They walked in silence for nearly fifteen seconds. “Anywhere in particular you dropping me off?” Bucky wasn’t nearly as good at subtlety when he had his mind where it belonged.

“You will be taken to New York City in the United States,” Catman said. He spoke in monotone, but to Bucky he may as well have shouted. He stopped walking and fell against a tree. The rough bark and solid trunk helped ground him a little bit. Not much, though. The blood in his head was roaring.

“No.”

The man stopped as well. “No?”

“No. Take me anywhere but the States. I don’t care where, drop me in the middle of a fucking warzone, but not the States, ‘specially not New York.”

Despite the mask, Bucky could nearly feel Catman roll his eyes. He had no right, he had no goddamn idea what Bucky had been through, what he had done. “The choice is not yours to make, Mr. Barnes.”

“Says who? Why do you care where I end up?”

“I don’t, but some friends of mine are very interested in your well-being, and I see no reason to deny them their wish.”

“Yeah?” His anger and panic was rising. Bucky clenched and unclenched his left hand, “And who’re these friends of yours?” But he had an awful feeling that he already knew.

“Steven Rogers and Tony Stark, among others.”

“No,” he repeated, softer this time. It was worse hearing Steve’s name aloud. “There’s no goddamn way you can make me go back there. I won’t let you.” He wrapped his arms behind him, around the tree. As if it could anchor him. He’d rather stay there forever than go back to New York again. He wasn’t ready. He’d never be ready.

“Mr. Barnes-”

“You can’t make me!”

“You’re acting childish!” 

Bucky stayed silent, daring the man to come closer. To get him. To test his will. _I will not go back._

Catman twisted his head up and down, side to side. Bucky heard his neck and knuckles crack. “As you wish,” and he leapt forward, claws outstretched.

Bucky jumped to the left and aimed a kick at the man. Catman skillfully dodged it and grabbed his ankle. But instead of just yanking and letting go to throw off his balance, the man kept hold of Bucky’s leg for a second longer and twisted. Bucky was spun in midair and landed on the hard ground with a _thunk_. He scrambled to his feet. Catman didn’t even look winded. He just looked at Bucky, head slightly tilted in confusion. 

“This is not a fight you will win, Soldier.”

Bucky landed a punch to the man’s stomach. “Don’t call me that!”

There was a flash of silver, and Bucky winced as he felt his right bicep being cut. If only he had his knives. He stumbled backward.

“If you continue this you will end up even more hurt.”

Bucky snarled. He jumped and punched at the man, fist after fist in rapid succession. Catman blocked them with his forearms each time, like it was the easiest thing in the world. Finally he caught the man off guard and managed to land a solid hit to his jaw, and he followed it quickly with a kick to his ribs. 

“You are making this more difficult than it needs to be,” said the man. Bucky panted heavily, but said nothing. Catman sighed, “If you insist.” The last thing Bucky saw was the ground coming up to meet him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and sent me messages! <3 I'm like a dog, I thrive on praise. Also, it was either publish this or study, so clearly this was the correct path. Enjoy :)

Bucky’s first sensation in consciousness was the feeling of fur. The feeling of something soft, something gentle in between his fingers... it had been so long since he had slept. His second was the sound of shouting. He opened his eyes.

He was lying on an enormous cushion, covered with a... blanket? Pelt? It was soft, whatever it was. Bucky threw it off of himself and sat up. Immediately he was filled with regret. His head was throbbing and the rest of him ached. And he was cold. Why was he shirtless? Bucky noticed his arm. That must be why. The right one was bandaged where Catman had scratched him. His left looked incredibly clean. Like someone had polished it. A shiver ran down his spine. Who had been tending to him in his sleep? He looked over the rest of his body. His skin, especially around his neck, was sunburned and pink. His body still wasn’t used to being out in the sunlight so much. If he planned to stay in Africa, his pale white skin would have to learn to adjust. Black and blue bruises were scattered on his ribs and torso, mixing with the irritated pink. _A perfect fucking rainbow._

The sound of voices got louder. He crept over to the door of the room. It sounded like Catman and a woman? Women? Bucky shook himself to clear his head and pushed his ear to the door.

“Okoye, I understand, but you must stay here and lead the others,” Catman said. He sounded patient, but... displeased? Bucky wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of the conversation.

“But you are unwell! You must allow me to find the herb. You need to recover,” said one of the women.

“And then who would protect the castle? Who would patrol our borders, hmm? I need to be the one to make the journey. You and Nakia must stay and look after the rest of the Dora Milaje,” said the man.

Another woman’s voice, higher pitched. She sounded younger, “My King, I insist-”

“Nakia, these are my orders. Please go and inform the others. Make sure you tell everyone in the west wing, even those who are being treated for injuries.” A moment of silence followed, and Bucky’s mind was reeling. What had happened? Was there a battle? Catman was a _king_? Bucky strained his ears.

“Your majesty, I think that Nakia is right in her concern. The Milaje don’t need ‘looking after,’ don’t insult them. They would be fine without us, especially if you stayed. Who would cover your blind spots on your journey? And what are we to do with the Winter Soldier?” The last question was hissed, and Bucky had to close his eyes and stop breathing in order to hear it.

There were several moments of silence, then the woman spoke again, “No, no no no, I know that look, you cannot be considering-”

“He cannot stay here. He could wreck havoc and be a dangerous distraction. Man-Ape may attack again in my absence and the Dora Milaje need to be at full attention. And, he has proved himself to be skilled in combat,” Bucky couldn’t help but be slightly proud of that. He got his ass handed to him, to put it nicely, and this guy thought he was good? “It would be adequate protection. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

“Why can’t we turn him loose, then, if we cannot keep him here?” _Yeah, Catman, just turn me loose_.

The man was silent, then he took a breath, “He is not in his right state of mind. If you had seen him in the forest, you would understand It would be cruel to leave him on his own in the wild, whether or not that is what wants.” Bucky glared at the door. _Who the fuck put him in charge of my life?_

“You and your heart. It will be the death of us all,” said the woman, “Well, do you have a plan for keeping him with you? How do you know he won’t double cross you and leave you on your overly sympathetic _ass_?”

“I do have a plan. A mutually beneficial one. Go Okoye, I must prepare for the journey.”

“I still do not like this.”

“Noted.”

Bucky sat back on his heels, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. His head was positively spinning. What did Catman have planned? Who were those women? What the hell was a “Man-Ape?” As preoccupied as he was with his confusion, Bucky almost missed Catman walk into the room. He might not have noticed if the door hadn’t nearly hit him and pushed him back on his ass.

The mask was gone. For a moment, all of Bucky’s questions were pushed to the side. He sucked in a large breath and blinked rapidly. _Not the time for your libido to wake up, Barnes_. And yet...

The sun was going down in the west, angled perfectly through the window to highlight Catman’s profile. His skin was dark in a way that reminded Bucky of night skies. It was cool, almost blue, despite the sunshine. His nose was wide, and his cheekbones, though not sharp, were definitely angled. His eyes were just as dark as his skin. But the light, just barely, outlined the man’s features. It was like he had been sketched in gold. It was a gentle, beautiful face. But it was lacking the confidence that Bucky had seen hours ago.

Bucky gave himself a few more seconds just to look. _Maybe get off your knees, Barnes_. He scrambled to his feet. Catman was taller than him, he noticed.

“You’re awake. How does your arm feel?” Catman asked. Bucky paid no attention to the question.

“Hear you’ve got something to tell me.”

“I should have guessed you were the eavesdropping sort. Yes, you and I do have things to discuss. But first,” Catman reached out his hand, “I believe a proper introduction is in order. As well as an apology. My name is T’Challa.” No claws were out this time.

_T’Challa_. Just as regal as the man it belonged to.

“King T’Challa, from what I hear,” said Bucky. He didn’t move to take his hand.

“I am the ruler of Wakanda, yes, but I prefer you call me T’Challa,” The words were measured, with no definable tone. The outstretched hand fell slowly.

“Huh. That your full title, Your Majesty?”

T’Challa narrowed his eyes at Bucky. “If you wish to be technical, there should be a ‘Doctor’ in there somewhere.”

“Ah, royal _and_ smart. Didn’t I luck out?” He said sarcastically. Bucky wasn’t sure why he was choosing _now_ to be a pain in the ass. Then again, he always had a talent for pissing off beautiful people.

“If you’re done,” said T’Challa curtly, “I have a deal to offer you. And I would suggest you take it.” He sat down on the purple cushion Bucky had occupied. Was he limping?

“If you don’t mind, I need some questions answered first.”

“That is fair. Ask what you wish,” T’Challa said.

Bucky sat across from him. “Settle in then, Doc. I’ve been out of the loop for a while.”

T’Challa’s lips were quirked. “I hope you don’t expect me to educate you on seventy years of global history, Mr. Barnes. My doctorate was earned in physics.”

“No, I think I’ve got the major things down. I more meant recent stuff. Like, for example, who the hell are the Avengers? Why won’t you let me go? The hell is a ‘Man-Ape?’” Bucky tried to reel himself in. He didn’t want to be too pushy. He was trying to get something, after all.

T’Challa sighed. “Where to begin,” he said quietly. He looked out the window. “In short, the Avengers are a team of individuals who all possess unique strengths, each given to them through different means. They protect Earth from global threats. Among them is Steven Rogers, which,” T’Challa continued, despite Bucky’s visible wince, “brings me to your next question. The Captain and Tony Stark and the rest of the team, for that matter, have been searching for you for a very long time, Mr. Barnes. According to Tony, Captain Rogers has been running himself into the ground since last April. Looking for you.” 

Bucky grimaced, “Yeah, well, a lot of effort has gone into making sure that doesn’t happen. Steve doesn’t need to bother with me. It’d be better if he didn’t.”

“He does not seem to think so.”

“Well he doesn’t know, does he?” Bucky realized he was standing. And yelling. Awkwardly, he sat again, unfurling his fists. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “He doesn’t know. He can’t know.”

T’Challa remained silent, watching him. Bucky gestured for him to continue.

“The most relevant question is perhaps the last, and in answering it I expect many more questions will come. ‘Man-Ape,’ or M’Baku, is a famed enemy of Wakanda. He attempted earn the title of ‘King’ and ‘Black Panther’ through the murder of my father and my exile many years ago.”

Bucky tried to ignore his immediate confusion, “Didn’t seem to work out.”

T’Challa gave a sad smile, “No, it did not. At least, not fully. My father was killed in M’Baku’s challenge, and thus I was banished. He held the throne for a short period of time until I reclaimed it. That was the last we saw of Man-Ape for many years. Until today,” the grin was gone now. “He attacked the palace with a new weapon, one of which the likes we have never seen. The weapon does not kill or injure, not directly. It can actually harm very few people at all. I, as it happens, am one of those people.”

“What’s it do?”

“The weapon, a gun of some sort, emits a radioactive frequency that is capable of reversing the effects of a particular physical trait that I have.” T’Challa looked almost embarrassed. 

“That why you’re limping?” Bucky asked.

“Hm, observant of you, but no. The rest can be explained to you later, but for now, I must propose my plan to you.”

Bucky leaned forward. Anything to keep him out of New York.

“I must retrieve a specific ingredient from deep within the forest, to counteract the effects of M’Baku’s weapon. Due to the circumstances, I am unable to do so alone. If you agree to accompany me, I will reconsider turning you in to my friends in New York City.”

“I’ll tell you, Your Highness, that ain’t a lot to go on,” Bucky said, “but it’s more than enough for me.” T’Challa let out a breath. “When do we start?”

“We will set out tomorrow morning at first light. Until then, I shall gather supplies. You should rest.”

“And if I can’t rest?”

T’Challa sighed, “Then you should come with me,” He stood. “You need your bandages rewrapped anyway.”

 

Bucky felt only slightly self conscious about his shirtlessness as he followed T’Challa through the hall. The people they passed did not stare, in fact they bowed their heads. For their King, Bucky imagined. Still.

The floors were made of well worn stone, as were the walls. Darker ornamentation and patterns stretched across the sandy browns and warm grays. Occasionally the patterns were interrupted by murals made of glittering rocks and gems. They depicted battles and victories, people and their families. All of them featured enormous black panthers. Their bodies were long, sleek, and muscled. Bright emeralds and diamonds and rocks that Bucky had never even seen before twinkled in the panthers’ eyes. They could have jumped off the walls and Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Come, Mr. Barnes. There will be time to admire Wakandan craftsmanship later,” T’Challa said from down the hall. Bucky looked at him and then back at the murals.

As he began walking again, Bucky called out to him, “You don’t have to call me ‘Mr. Barnes’ y’know. If we’re going on a mission, seems a bit formal.”

“What would you prefer I called you?”

“My friends called me-” _Bucky_. A rock sat on his tongue. A rock that was over seven decades old. He stared at the ground. Saying it out loud- he hadn’t expected it to be so overwhelming. 

A soft voice broke his train of thought, “May I call you James?” T’Challa’s hand was on his right shoulder. Bucky looked up, and T’Challa’s face was suddenly very close to his own. Bucky- _James_ , nodded slowly. The hand squeezed his shoulder firmly, and T’Challa began walking again. He was still limping a bit.

Several minutes of quiet followed. T’Challa might not be the most welcoming person- James’ purple ribs could attest to that- but he wasn’t insensitive. Not completely, at least. James appreciated his silence as they walked. One foot in front of the other was about all either men could handle after the accidental intensity of their shared moment. Up stairs, around bends, up more and more stairs they went. But soon T’Challa stopped in front of great wooden doors. “The medical wing,” he said, and pushed the doors open. 

James was immediately overcome by the metallic smell of blood and antiseptic. Women and men were scattered around the large room, and people darted about between the beds with papers and needles and bags of water. Quiet moaning and chatter filled the room. The soft, golden sunlight cascading over everything did not fit the frantic air the space emitted. When T’Challa stepped in, everyone stopped and all eyes turned towards the two of them. Collectively, the nurses bowed their heads and returned to their work.

“Christ,” James breathed, “What happened?”

“I told you, Man-Ape attacked.”

“One guy did all this?”

T’Challa turned to him, insulted. He lifted his chin as he said, “No, no mere man could do so much damage to these warriors. I should have made myself more clear. The entirety of the White Gorilla Cult, _lead_ by M’Baku, attacked.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. Follow me.” He lead the way towards two unoccupied beds on the side of the room. A nurse quickly approached them, but T’Challa raised his hand to stop him. “Finish with your other patients first,” he said, “we are not in any dire condition.” The nurse nodded and left.

James looked at him. “Is something wrong?” T’Challa asked, meeting his eyes.

“No.”

 

Eventually a nurse could be spared in their direction. A woman, this time, took James and T’Challa’s vitals. Her hands were strong and steady and callused, as though she had been doing her job for a very long time. Even so, James could not help but flinch when she got close. The nurse either did not notice or did not care. She unwrapped the gauze from his right bicep carefully, sniffed it, then put it to the side. “Standard infection poultice?” She asked T’Challa. He nodded, and she left them.

James was confused. Why would T’Challa care about his injuries? The nurse returned quickly and took his arm. A solution was spritzed on the cuts, then they were wrapped in a fresh length of gauze. “Thank you,” James said. She smiled at him with a glint in her green eyes.

“You may say that now,” she said.

“What do you- _holy shit_ -” the woman and T’Challa laughed at him, but James paid them no attention. His arm was stinging like the wounds had been reopened and a gallon of lemon juice had been poured in them. He laid down, clenching and unclenching his fists. It was fine, everything was fine, he had handled much worse. Deep breaths. 

To his left, T’Challa was having his leg examined. The woman hit him gently on the head. “My King, I’m afraid you’ll need to take off the suit if you want me to set your bones properly.” He nodded and jumped off the table. The woman hit him again when he winced.

“Force of habit. Sorry, Afunise,” T’Challa said. She shook her head at his retreating figure and tutted. 

“That boy,” Afunise said under her breath. She turned to James, “How does it feel?”

James swung his arm around a little. The cuts had stopped stinging for the most part, but they still felt raw. “Better,” he said, “Thank you.”

“T’Challa did a fair job of wrapping it initially, you should thank him,” Afunise said as she shone a light in James’ eyes.

“He did this? Why?” James hadn’t meant for his tone to be so incredulous.

Green eyes met brown, and the older woman cocked an eyebrow at him. “Because he is the one who injured you. He did the best he could with what was available, I’m guessing. If he hadn’t those cuts would be quite a bit worse. My King is not what I would call skilled with natural medicines, but he has learned, or so I like to think.”

James said nothing as Afunise continued to bandage various scrapes and bruises.

“Better?” T’Challa’s voice said to James’ left. Afunise jerked her head to the bed T’Challa had been sitting on. He was wearing a tight black tank top and shorts. A _very_ tight black tank top. 

“It’s a panther claw,” T’Challa said suddenly. James realized he had been staring. T’Challa’s fingers were wrapped around the cord he wore around his neck. He thought James had been staring at the necklace. It was as good an excuse as any, so James took it.

“Huh,” he said eloquently. He swore he didn’t use to lose it so bad in front of attractive people.

The next few minutes were filled only with Afunise’s mutterings. At last, she interrupted herself with an exasperated sigh. “You aren’t going to like this, T’Challa. Your tibia has a small fracture.”

The king’s face was blank. “How long will it take to heal?”

“Well, before this, shall we call it, _mishap_ , with M’Baku’s weapon, I would have said about a week. But now...” Afunise shook her head, “six, minimum. And that is if you take good care of yourself and don’t put it under any strain, which we both know you will not do.”

“Can I still make it to the Vibranium Mound?”

“As if anything I say would stop you. Before you leave, have your suit reinforced, that should help you along. And _go slowly_. We can make it here without you until your return,” Afunise’s voice sounded harsh, but James could hear the underlying concern.

“Thank you, Afunise,” T’Challa kissed her forehead, and James suddenly felt like an intruder. He lowered his eyes.

“As for you,” Afunise whirled on James, “you are to look after him. I don’t care who you are, if he comes back hurt, you will have to answer to _me_. You will watch out for him to the best of your ability, is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” James said quickly. From what he had seen, the very last thing T’Challa needed was protecting. He was suddenly reminded of himself. How many times had he lectured the Commandos, giving these same instructions about Steve? James felt a bit nauseous.

T’Challa rolled his eyes, “If you’re done Afunise, we have a journey to prepare for.” The woman gave a small _hmph_.

“You make it easy for that boy. Don’t go galavanting how you usually do, being reckless. Now get out of my wing, I’ve got patients to tend to,” She gave T’Challa a final kiss on the cheek and shooed them out. “And for the love of Bast,” she yelled after them, “at least use a crutch til you leave!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Again, you can find me on tumblr under the same name: lovelyauras


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? Angst? Also the notebook of memories, 'cause obviously I couldn't just ignore that beauty.

“Where to now, Your Highness?” James tried to keep his pace slow, for T’Challa’s sake. It wasn’t like he knew where he was going in this place.

“I will be going to pack our supplies. You need to rest,” T’Challa’s speech was punctuated by the tapping of his crutch on the ground. He saw that James open his mouth to argue. “You do not know what lies ahead of you. You _must_ rest. Is there anything you require for the journey?”

James thought about it as he walked, “Might be easier to say if I knew what I was gettin’ already.”

“Fair enough. Because you are not accustomed to surviving off the Wakandan wild, you will have your own sack of rations and water. Basic medical supplies, the like. There is no need for a map, I am familiar enough with my country. Is there anything else you need?” T’Challa asked again. Back to the cold tone.

“Not that I can think of.”

“Very well,” he stopped walking, “Down this hall and to the right there is a room for you. Call if you need anything. We set off at first light.”

James nodded his thanks and pushed open the doors.

 

“святой ад,” he whispered. _Holy hell_. The room was beautiful. High ceilings, a fireplace, cushions fucking _everywhere._

He walked over to an enormous four poster bed and fell facedown onto it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t go to sleep yet. A shower was definitely necessary. He reluctantly pushed himself up.

There were several doors in the room. James turned to the knob of the closest one. It was an empty closet.

The next one he tried was the bathroom. A fluffy black robe hung on the door. James quickly went out of the bathroom to try the final door of the room. It was locked. Despite his curiosity, James didn’t question it further. The energy just was not there. After closing the main door, he peeled off his pants and socks and shoes. The shoes were nearly worn through. Maybe tomorrow he could ask for a new pair. 

James shook himself. He didn’t need to indebt himself to these people even further. His shoes were fine. 

He locked the door to the bathroom and turned on the shower, being careful to test it first with his right hand. It had only taken once for him to learn not to jump into cold water unprepared.

As James scrubbed his hair and body, he tried to sort out his thoughts. When exactly had this ‘Man-Ape’ guy attacked? Would T’Challa keep his word? He still didn’t know what they were even looking for. 

He eventually gave up. There was tomorrow to worry about. Nothing else was really certain. When he was done, he allowed himself to just stand under the water. It stung against his neck, where the sun had burnt him, but James paid no mind. The jets ran over his skin and his hair until he felt almost numb. As nice as it was just to stand there, he was fairly sure that the bed would be more comfortable for sleeping, so he got out.

He dried off and put the robe on. The drawers were full of toiletries. Brushes, combs, deodorant, cologne even. James carefully combed his hair and brushed his teeth. It felt so good to be clean, at least on the outside. There was a razor in the drawer too. He ignored it. The first time he shaved after escaping Hydra he had put himself into a panic attack, not to mention cut his face up. That clean shaven face belonged to Sergeant Bucky Barnes of the 107th. Not him. Still, James tried to avoid mirrors when he could.

In the main room, James found his clothes gone and replaced with soft pajamas. He put them on without any thought and climbed into the bed. Actual pillows were a nice change from the rocks he’d been using for the past few months. Maybe he’d sleep well tonight.

 

James screamed as he bolted upright. His chest was heaving and there were beads of sweat racing down his body and his face. In his attempt to get out of bed, his legs got tangled in the sheets and he fell onto the hard wooden floor. He barely noticed. Half crawling, James went to the drawer of his bedside table.

“Paper, paper, paper, paper-” He said aloud. It was almost a chant. He let out a frustrated growl and slammed the drawers shut. Nothing.

He ran to another dresser, nothing. Checked the bathroom, nothing. The closet, nothing. He even tried in vain to open the locked door, rattling it against its hinges.

James found himself back on the bed, hugging himself. He gripped his knees with his hands, his left knee especially aching with the force of the hold.

“Me and Stevie, small, back in the apartment,” James shut his eyes tightly, “‘e was- he was coughin’, and it was cold-God so cold, so fuckin’ cold,” he held himself tighter, “we were- so cold-” He was losing it, it wasn’t working, he needed to-

“Mr. Barnes?” A gentle voice came from behind the door to the hall, “Do you need anything?”

James was silent for a moment. He didn’t know where he was, who was behind the door. He didn’t know anything.

“My apologies if I woke you, Mr. Barnes. I’ll leave you now.”

“No!” His shout surprised even himself, “Please! I do need something, I do, I need paper,” he made an effort to stop yelling,”Paper and pen, please, hurry!” He hugged himself again. He rubbed at his temples and squeezed his eyes shut again. Sight was too distracting. He murmured to himself, “It was cold, it was cold, he was sneezing and shivering so bad, we- shit! Don’t know, don’t know, холодный, Я не знаю-”

A young woman came into room, holding a notebook and a pen. James held his hands out to her without looking at her face. He nearly tore the book in half in his desperation to put the pen to the paper. At first the ball of the pen ripped the paper, and James nearly screamed in frustration. He tore the sheet off and tried to start again. He had to get it down, he had to remember, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if another one got away. Frantically, he began to write.

 

When James was finally finished, he looked over his scribbles. The memory he had so desperately wanted to record was an odd mix of English and Russian, barely legible in some areas. Pen splatters and cross-outs scattered the page. Shaking hands gently tried to smooth the paper. 

Нью-Йорк, до война, _in apartment, winter, very cold, Christmas tree in living room, could see through cracked bedroom door, Steve and me in bed trying to stay warm, nighttime, lights off, could see streetlamps outside,_ снег, _Steve shivering bad, blankets wrapped around us, lots of them had holes, saw snow falling outside and on windowsill, hug Steve tighter_

The pounding in his chest started to subside. It was out, it was down, the memory was safe. It wasn’t free falling in his mind now, it was tangible. James felt as if he had just run a marathon in his head. He looked around, recalling where he was and the situation he was in. His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered the young woman who had helped him. He’d have to thank her. And apologize for being so frantic. But his eyelids felt so heavy. 

_Tomorrow,_ he thought, _I’ll do it tomorrow_. James wasn’t even through with the thought before his head hit the pillow again.

 

It felt like only minutes had passed when James was woken by a knock on the door. He rubbed at his eyes. Another knock.

He grunted in acknowledgement. Through the door walked T’Challa. He was wearing his catsuit armor, but had forgone the mask.

“Did you sleep well, James?” T’Challa asked. His voice was soft. The tone of it wasn’t gentle, exactly, or even kind, but it did not suggest complete disinterest. James decided it was too early for analyzing.

“Doesn’t matter now, does it? ‘M awake now. Where’s your crutch?” He nodded at the king’s leg, which appeared completely normal.

“My suit has been appropriately reinforced,” T’Challa said. “I came to make sure that you still wished to partake in our journey.”

James snorted, “Not like I have much choice. Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” he stood up, “If we need a safeword, I’ll let you know.” 

T’Challa acted as if he hadn’t heard him, “If you’re so well rested, then we can leave soon. Breakfast will be brought to you shortly, and I’ll expect you in the entrance of the palace in an hour. Your supplies will be there. Excuse me.” T’Challa turned on his heel and was gone.

_No need to be so warm and cuddly_ , James thought.

 

 

“Wait, so the _entire_ premise is just cowboys in space?”

“No, no, no- well, kinda, but I don’t want to spoil it for you. Just trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Whatever you say, Tony,” Steve replied. His head was in Tony’s lap, and Tony was stroking his hair. He looked up, “Will you make popcorn?”

Tony chuckled at him, “Maybe, but that means that you’ve got to move your head, darling.” The blond groaned, but obliged. Really, Tony wanted to groan too. He wanted to spend every moment of tonight being near Steve. His bare feet padded to the kitchen.

“Hey, Tone?”

“Yes, dear heart?”

“Extra butter?”

Tony rolled his eyes as he put the bag in the microwave. “Not all of us have super metabolisms, y’know!”

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to work it off!” Steve called back to him.

Tony wished he could smile at that, he truly did. He rejoined his boyfriend on the couch with the popcorn.

“J,” he said, as Steve leaned on his shoulder, “Play _Firefly_ , Episode One.” The lights dimmed as the theme song started.

“So explain this to me again,” Steve whispered.

“Sh, sh, sh, just watch, it’ll make sense.”

“That’s what you said about the other ones- oh, shit, hold on,” Steve put his buzzing phone to his ear. “Yeah, Sam, hang on a minute-” he stood up. “Are you- wait, where did you hear that? No, Sam, I-” Steve looked back at Tony and mouthed _I’m sorry_. He paced into the other room.

Tony closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch. “Pause it, J,” he said quietly. His body was cold where Steve had been laying. An intense wave of loneliness hit Tony. The sudden quiet and stillness of the room was startling. _Please_ , Tony thought to himself. _Please._ He looked up when Steve sat down next to him again.

“Everything okay?” He asked gently.

Steve gave a noncommittal _hmm_. Seeing the brunet’s raised eyebrows, he said, “It’s fine, ‘Tasha’s gonna take care of it. Keep playing, please, JARVIS.”

Tony looked at his boyfriend intently, studying the angles of his jaw and his nose. “You can go, you know. I won’t make you stay here.”

“No, I promised you that we’d spend tonight together. Now hush, I want to know about this weird show you and Clint keep going on about,” Steve didn’t look at him, “Hand me the popcorn- thanks.”

_God forgive me_ , Tony thought. _Let me have him just this once. Forgive me for not making him go_.

Captain America is not a good liar. He has about three different tells to those who don’t know him. Those who do know him could point out even more. Tony could have given a mile long list. Nearly everything about Steve’s mannerisms were showing his anxiousness. 

For the first time in a very long time, Tony did not call him out on these things. Every other occasion he would have insisted that Steve go look for Bucky, that he knew how important he was to him, could he help with the search, is he sure that there isn’t anything else he could help with. But he couldn’t bear it tonight.

And he’d try to convince himself that he was doing it all for Steve’s own good, which was partially true. Steve had been a tornado of recklessness and paranoia since he had seen his childhood friend last year. And in reality, he _was_ the one best qualified to reel Steve in. The whole truth though, Tony knew would catch up to him in the morning. He just wanted to _be_ with Steve. It felt like they had hardly spoken in months. Not that Tony didn’t appreciate the short, jabbing teasing or the day to day conversation. But talking, really _talking_ and communicating? Not in a long time.

Tony pressed his lips to Steve’s head and held him there. “I love you,” he said softly. He buried his face in blond hair. “I love you so much.” In his mind, Tony resolved to make his selfishness worth it for Steve. 

Steve looked at him, brows slightly furrowed. “I love you, too, Tony,” he squeezed his hand, “Why do you sound so sad?”

_Why wouldn’t he?_ “‘M not,” Tony said, “Just wanted to make sure you knew.” He would pour his selfishness into care, into love that Steve deserved, or as close as he could get. Tony could put his entire being into loving Steve, and he did, but it would never be what Steve deserved.

A small smile graced Steve’s lips, “I don’t think I could ever forget,” he said. “It’s the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes.” Steve kissed him on the cheek and put his head back on Tony’s shoulder. How was it possible for someone’s heart to rise and fall simultaneously? The fact that Steve loved Tony, was willing to say it out loud, nearly made up for the glaring truth that Tony had done absolutely nothing to earn that affection.

_Just this once, please. I need him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurrah for angst and stony! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I have been told by a few people that they are a bit unclear about certain aspects of the story, but never fear, your questions shall be answered soon. <3
> 
> (I feel like I should also share that I love Tony with all of my heart and soul, and that I intensely admire his heart and his sense of selflessness. But unfortunately, Tony does not see himself that way. :( )
> 
> Tumblr: lovelyauras


	4. Chapter 4

As much as James had forgotten, he was pretty sure that he had _never_ known how to act around royalty. Because of this, he granted himself a bit of leeway.

“So when exactly did this gorilla guy come?” James asked. The two men were about an hour into their journey. If they turned around, they could still see the palace behind them, growing steadily smaller. “Was it before you, uh-” _Ran me into a river and beat my ass to a pulp?_ For the sake of his dignity, James really hoped that wasn’t the case. His pride couldn’t take it if he had gotten beaten that badly by a guy with a broken leg.

T’Challa said nothing for a moment. James was starting to wonder if he had even heard him when the king spoke. “M’Baku came after you had come to the palace. He attacked whilst you were unconscious. You’re quite a heavy sleeper, James,” T’Challa looked back at him. It sounded like he was grinning, but through the mask James couldn’t be sure. Then it dawned on him what T’Challa had said.

“Wait, how long was I out for?”

“Oh, say a day and a half.”

James’ mouth dropped open. An entire fucking day? And T’Challa hadn’t felt the need to mention this? _To be fair_ , he reasoned with himself, _there isn’t any reason he would_. T’Challa wouldn’t know that James counted days like his life depended on it. It was his way of making sure that he was still part of the living. His life had taken too many shortcuts through time. James liked to avoid that if he could. _Christ, Barnes_ , he thought, _you can let your lungs do their job now._ It wasn’t like he had been in cryosleep for months, it was just a few extra hours. 

The two continued to walk for a while. Still, James’ heart was beating a bit too fast for his liking, so he opened his mouth to distract himself.

“Are you allowed to stop being so damn cryptic with me now? Now that you know I’m definitely in this?”

T’Challa’s loud sigh was unexpected. It was exasperated and a little annoyed, but James couldn’t help but smile. It was the most ordinary and human thing he had seen the king do so far. “What do you wish to know?”

“Oh, nothin’ in particular. Just for future reference. If I think of something,” James was glad that T’Challa was in front of him. It made it easier to hide his grin. Being obnoxious was better than being bored. Maybe if he was annoying enough, T’Challa would let him go out of sheer frustration.

He let about half a minute pass before he started talking again, “So,” he said, dragging out the ‘o.’

T’Challa said nothing, resolutely moving forward.

James tried again, “You gotta queen or somethin’?”

“There is a queen of Wakanda, yes,” T’Challa said, “But she is by no means ‘mine,’ as you so _eloquently_ put it.” The last bit was more frustrated, like he hadn’t really meant to say it, but his temper had gotten the better of him.

Rolling his eyes, James asked, “So who is she?”

“Her Majesty’s name is Queen Mother Ramonda,” T’Challa’s words were clipped, “And I would _highly_ suggest against saying anything even remotely disrespectful towards her, especially in front of me.”

Even though T’Challa couldn’t see him, James put up his hands defensively. All right, so family was a touchy subject. He could respect that. He could find something else to annoy His Highness with.

The silence dragged on for about two minutes, just long enough for T’Challa to lower his hackles. Then James started whistling. To be honest, he had no idea what it was from, maybe some old war song. Whatever the song’s origin was, James didn’t care, because it was certainly bugging the shit out of T’Challa. James looked around at the tree canopy casually, like strolling in the rainforest was part of his daily morning routine.

Suddenly he was falling. James was starting to get used to that. Although this time there was no river to cushion him, just a warm and solid human. James looked up at T’Challa, who was lying belly up on the forest floor. Their chests were pressed together for about a few shocked seconds before T’Challa roughly pushed him off. James tumbled onto his back next to him. His backpack made his spine curve upwards uncomfortably. The two men did not look at each other.

“My apologies-”

“Sorry, I didn’t-”

They started speaking simultaneously, then stopped in the same moment. James wondered if he should try again or just ride out the tension. T’Challa made the choice for him.

“I, um,” T’Challa shook his head, “I must have lost my footing. My apologies.” The man pushed himself to his feet and James heard a sharp intake of air.

“Oh,” he realized out loud, “Is your leg okay?” James also scrambled up.

“Not that,” the king said gruffly, “It will be fine.”

“Right,” James was unconvinced, “What’d you do?” He did a quick scan of T’Challa’s body to see if anything at least looked wrong. His eyes caught on the man’s shoulder. Definitely dislocated. “Move your arm,” James said.

T’Challa did so, and James rolled his eyes, “The _other_ one, Catman.”

“You cannot order me to do anything,” was T’Challa’s hard response. James sighed inwardly. _Why do I always get stuck with the difficult ones?_ Without warning James went to punch him. T’Challa raised his arm to block the hit and let out a pained noise. He lowered his arm.

“Thought so,” he said, plopping back on the ground. He gestured for T’Challa to sit too. When he didn’t, James knocked the back of his knees, causing him to crumple. “You’re off your game today, ‘Challa. Come on, take off the mask.” 

T’Challa did so without speaking. James looked into his eyes, checking for the dilation of pupils. He put his finger up and moved it to the left and right, watching T’Challa’s big, dark eyes track the movement. “No concussion, least not that I can tell,” James said. “You gonna let me put your arm back in its socket?” He scooted closer. If T’Challa turned his head, James would have been able to feel his breath on his face.

“You don’t need to treat me like a child, James,” T’Challa said, not looking at him.

“Yeah, well, call it habit. Count of three, ‘kay?” The king nodded, setting his jaw. He wrapped his fingers around the top of T’Challa’s arm. He could feel the dip between his shoulder and bicep. It would have been nice if he couldn’t also feel exactly where his shoulder bone _should_ have been.

“Okay, one-,” James gave a hard push and T’Challa groaned. He looked up to see dark eyes glaring at him. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Next time tuck and roll instead of catching yourself, then we won’t have to do that again.” 

“I might have, had there not been a person on top of me,” he said gruffly. He shook his head and looked back at him, “Are you all right?” T’Challa asked, quieter this time.

“Aces.” The two stood up and brushed themselves off. T’Challa, much to James’ disappointment, put his mask back on. He swung his arm around a bit.

“We should be going,” he said. James gestured for him to lead the way, and they started off once more. In the meantime, he could only try not to think about how it felt when their bodies were pressed so close together. 

 

When they finally stopped, James was beginning to think that T’Challa was tricking him into not only _going_ to New York, but _walking_ there. At this point he was waiting for the ocean to get in the way. James’ legs ached. They had only stopped once, and that was just so James could get some food out of his pack. 

The sky was a dark purple color, and the sun had set long ago. Little silver stars were starting to appear. Already there were more of them than James could ever remember seeing in Brooklyn. He grimaced at their twinkling. _Not now._

The small clearing where T’Challa had chosen to make camp was grassy with sparse patches of dirt. The king started to make a circle out of nearby rocks in the middle of the dirt.

“What’re you doing?” James asked.

“Believe it or not,” T’Challa said, “Africa _does_ get cold. Especially at night. If you are too tired to help make the fire, then I can do it myself. Stay here.”

James glared at T’Challa’s retreating figure. Of course he was tired, but he wasn’t about to refuse a direct challenge.

The following minutes were comprised of silent competition. Who could get more tinder, more rocks, more sticks. It may have been all in James’ head, but so what? At least he won. His pile was definitely bigger. At one point he would have sworn that he heard T’Challa laugh at him, but he wasn’t sure.

 

The two men sat across from each other, with the newly made fire burning between them. James sipped at his water, staring into the flames. T’Challa wasn’t kidding about it getting cold. He pulled his hoodie around him tighter and scooted closer to the warmth of the fire. In the distance, he heard a roar. James stood up to get a better view of the savanna around them, but it was pitch black beyond the light of the fire. T’Challa stayed on the ground, poking the flames with a stick.

“It’s just a leopard,” he said, completely unperturbed. “No need to worry.” The king’s face was uncovered and his eyes glinted in the light.

James stayed standing for a moment, still carefully watching the darkness.

T’Challa spoke again, “James, it’s fine. The fire will keep them away.”

James’ head whipped around, “Forgive me, _Your Majesty_ , but it’ll take a bit more than your word to assure me that I’m no longer in any kind of danger.”

“I don’t doubt it,” T’Challa’s eyes met James’. James expected him to continue speaking, but he did not. T’Challa looked away to poke at the fire.

He sat down again. The fire popped and James followed the sparks into the air with his eyes. They looked like fireflies, ascending lazily with the smoke.

Through the flames, T’Challa was looking at him again.

“What?” He asked.

“You are a peculiar man, James.”

He couldn’t help but feel defensive. His own silver hand glinted in his peripheral vision. “Maybe, yeah, so?”

T’Challa shook his head, “You misunderstand me, I did not mean it negatively.”

“How’d you mean it, then?” 

“Within the amount of time that I’ve known you, James, you’ve showed an alarming amount of compassion.” He must have looked confused, because T’Challa continued, “Today, you had an opportunity to run away, to abandon me. But you didn’t. Not only that, but you went out of your way to help me. Now of course,” he said, “how am I to know your motives for these actions? Perhaps you want to gain my trust only to betray it later, or you realized that you would get lost without me. I don’t know. However,” T’Challa added, “the former would be your best chance of getting out of our deal.”

James said nothing. In truth, nothing of the sort had even crossed his mind. T’Challa needed his help, so he helped him. Of course, he _had_ considered annoying T’Challa enough for him to let him go, but he certainly hadn’t considered _betrayal_. He’d had his fill of betrayal and lying. The one concrete thing he figured in the months following Hydra’s destruction was that not enough people helped each other. In response to T’Challa, he shrugged.

“You’re pretty odd, too, y’know.”

“And how is that?”

“You’re probably the best monarch I’ve ever seen,” James said, “and while that ain’t much to compare to, it’s still something. You actually consider your people. Like, erm, yesterday in the hospital. You just _waited_ for other people to be helped, you didn’t barge in and demand shit, even though you could have. I’ve seen leaders like that,” he said, “history usually doesn’t do them well. Then again, it ain’t always nice to the good ones, either.” His words trailed off towards the end, and James looked away.

“When you say ‘history,’” T’Challa said softly, “I can’t help but wonder if you are referring to yourself.”

James gave a bitter laugh, but said nothing.

“James,” T’Challa said, “I think you’d better rest.”

“Nah, ain’t sleepy yet, Catman,” he said. In truth, he _was_ tired. His body was more tired than he had been in a long time, actually. But mentally, James felt more awake than he had in months. Even so, he didn’t think he could take much more of the current discussion. “So what did this special weapon do to you, anyway?”

The look in T’Challa’s face told him that the abrupt change in subject was definitely noticed, but T’Challa generously did not address it. “A more complicated question than you realize. Let me first explain to you what I am, then the weapon’s effect on me. As I’m sure you’ve gathered,” T’Challa said, “I am the Black Panther. However, this is more than just a title for the reigning monarch of Wakanda.”

“How’d you mean?”

“Those who earn the title of Black Panther are treated to a ceremony of ancient importance. My father, T’Chaka, did it, as did his father, and so on, going back at least 10,000 years. In the ceremony,” he said, “my body was treated with something known as the heart-shaped herb. It is a special plant that grows only in Wakanda, where the soil has been mutated by Vibranium.”

James was intrigued, “What’s it do?”

“It increases one’s kinaesthetic sense,” seeing James’ raised eyebrows, T’Challa continued, “Meaning that I had an exceptional sense of where my body is at any given time. I never had to guess whether or not I would successfully grab hold of a branch or land a hit on someone, because I always knew _exactly_ where my body was in relation to everything else around it. The herb also gave me an increased healing rate, as well as enhanced strength and speed.”

“I thought you seemed weird when I met you,” James said, “Not a whole lot of people can catch me, and I’m sure even less can run through that damn forest without tripping.” Privately, James recalled how T’Challa used to move so gracefully and confidently. Now it wasn’t a wonder why he could. “Sounds pretty nice,” he said.

“Yes, it is truly a blessing from Bast herself to be privy to such abilities,” the king’s voice sounded so genuine and wistful that James could not help but feel sympathetic. “But, as you have seen, I no longer have these traits.”

James suddenly remember Afunise’s words about T’Challa’s recovery time, which made more sense now. And...

“You tripping today! That was because you didn’t have the herb thing!” James said. Within a second he regretted bringing it up. His face burned with more than the heat of the fire when he remembered T’Challa pressed against him. Absentmindedly, James lightly touched his collar bones.

“Yes, it was. Although I will admit to being a bit distracted at the time, too.”

_Huh?_ Oh. His obnoxious whistling. But for whatever reason, it didn’t sound like that was what T’Challa was referring to.

“So,” he said finally, “this weapon that M’Baku used on you-”

“Took these things from me, yes.”

“Any idea how?”

“Wakanda’s leading scientists are working on the answer at the palace. That kind of weapon could do any amount of damage to someone, enhanced or not. But so far,” T’Challa sighed, “we have no idea.”

Out of all the emotions James had seen on T’Challa’s face, sadness was his least favorite. He wanted to take it away.

“But you can get the herb again, right? There isn’t a reason it shouldn’t work for a second time?”

“Hopefully. Now perhaps you see my motivation in retrieving it quickly.”

“Yeah,” James said quietly, “don’t blame you a bit.”

The sky was finally black, with no traces of blue or purple. T’Challa looked at it, studying the stars as he said, “I will take the watch, you rest. We have a long way to go tomorrow.”

James didn’t argue. He adjusted his backpack to use as a pillow and laid down. “Just wake me up in a couple hours,” he said, “can’t have you being half dead either, ‘cause hell if I know where we’re going.”

T’Challa didn’t respond, but James heard him add some sticks to the fire. He soon fell asleep, but not before wondering whether or not it would be weird to wish T’Challa a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! I'm so happy that people seem to be enjoying this. Btw, everything I've written is completely unbetaed, so if there are errors anywhere, please don't hesitate to let me know <3
> 
> As always, feel free to talk to me on tumblr at lovelyauras


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a minor warning for this chapter: James has a brief panic attack and throws up once.

_Stevie got into a fight against two big guys, black eye, busted lip, bleeding knuckles, dislocated shoulder, nearly unconscious when I found him, had to help him up the stairs to the apartment, kept groaning about how he was fine, washed his hands and wrapped them up, cloth was a bit stained with blood from another time, had to hold an ice pack to his lip for an hour, didn’t want to put his arm back in place, had to argue that he couldn’t draw if he couldn’t move it, sun shining on him as I shoved it back, kept gritting his teeth, never complained, made Sarah’s tea for him_

James bit the tip of his pen as he reread the memory. There had been less panic involved this time, but his heart was still thumping harder than usual in his chest. The memory hadn’t come in a dream, so it was slightly easier to place, and he was more confident that he hadn’t forgotten anything about it. It felt good.

He looked around him. He was lucky that nothing had attacked them when he was writing, because he probably wouldn’t have noticed. But there was nothing. The savanna grass around him swayed lazily, and the sky was taking its time waking up. One by one, the stars were going out as the black faded to pink and orange. There was about an hour to the sunrise, by his guess. James threw a bit more on the fire and scooted closer to it.

Across the dying flames, T’Challa snored softly. The way he was curled up made him look like a real cat. His breathing was deep and even. Unapologetically, James took the chance to study his face.

The king’s brow wasn’t furrowed for once. It brought out the subtle kindness that he had seen in T’Challa. And his ears were small. James wasn’t sure why that was endearing, but it was. His eyes trailed down to T’Challa’s lips, which were slightly parted, and James was surprised to see that his two front teeth had the _tiniest_ gap between them. Without meaning to, James smiled. T’Challa gave a small snort in his sleep, and James smiled even bigger. He saw him scrunch up his face and take a big breath in, and _shit his eyes were open and he was watching James watch him_.

“Hey,” James said awkwardly, “I was just about to wake you up.” No he wasn’t.

T’Challa rubbed his eyes and surveyed the sky, then looked back at him, “Eager, are you? It’s not even dawn.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I remembered reading something about those leopards being especially active at this time,” James said. He wanted to hit himself, he wasn’t being even remotely convincing.

“Right,” T’Challa said with raised eyebrows. It was painfully obvious that he wasn’t buying it, “Well, you heard wrong. Leopards are nocturnal, they’d be going to sleep about now.”

“Good to know,” James muttered, standing up. _Change the subject, change the subject-_

“We should get going, if we’re up,” T’Challa said, “Do you know how to put out the fire?”

James shook his head, and T’Challa proceeded to teach him how to smother a fire with dirt and sand until it was out. He probably should have been paying more attention, but their shoulders were just close enough to be distracting.

By the time T’Challa was satisfied that they weren’t going to be responsible for burning down the country, the sun had finally start to come up. 

“Humans are the leading cause of destruction in the savanna,” T’Challa said, “The wildlife can do nothing to prevent forest fires, so it’s up to us to be responsible for it.”

Without meaning to, James laughed out loud. He had suddenly been reminded of Smokey Bear. In his mind’s eye, he saw T’Challa in a ranger hat and khakis, lecturing small children about safety. At least he wouldn’t forget _that_ anytime soon. 

He waved his hand in dismissal at T’Challa, who was staring at him oddly. He hadn’t _meant_ to laugh; the issue was obviously very important to T’Challa. Truthfully, the monarch’s dedication to Wakanda was something to behold, and James knew better than to mock it. He took a glance at him apologetically, but T’Challa did not seem offended. The king only shook his head, looking slightly fond. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it and started leading James towards the forest once more. James noticed that he left his mask off this time, and he grinned to himself.

 

“Do you ever get tired?” James asked, smacking a vine out of his way.

“Do you ever get tired of whining?” T’Challa called back. James only groaned.

It was only mid afternoon, but the sun was becoming unbearably hot. His bandages were itchy, he was thirsty and hungry, and he was tired. James needed a break.

“‘Challa,” he yelled ahead, “we need to stop for a minute.”

T’Challa did not answer. James tried again, “‘Challa! Come on, Catman, you’ve gotta be thirsty or something!”

With an audible groan, T’Challa turned around and stalked back to James. “Do you remember me saying that this mission is of _great_ personal and national importance?”

James looked up at him from where he had plopped on the ground, “If it’ll make you happy, we can run for the next ten minutes to make up for lost time. Satisfied?” T’Challa huffed, and as he turned away James would have sworn he mumbled something about his incredible inability to run without tripping. Sending a grateful prayer for the sake of his feet, James took out his canteen. Nearly empty.

No matter, he and T’Challa were traveling along a river anyway. _The River of Grace and Wisdom_ , T’Challa had called it. James reached down to fill his canteen with the clear, rushing water. It was delightfully cold compared to the boiling sun. After he put his purifying capsules in, he looked around. T’Challa must have wandered off. James knew that T’Challa wouldn’t leave him, but as long as he was gone...

He peeled off his socks, shoes, and shirt. Stepping into the water, he gave a content sigh. James reached down to splash the sparkling liquid on his face. It felt _wonderful_. With no sign of T’Challa, he let himself wade a little deeper. Scrubbing his face and body, James allowed himself to relax. He dipped his hair in the water and shook it like a dog, the droplets flying everywhere. His army tags gently bumped against his chest, clinking when they hit his arm. 

James pushed his hair out of his face and took the tags between his fingers. He ran his calloused thumb over the letters. It had taken hell to get them back, but it had been worth it. Stealing from the Smithsonian was no easy thing. Hesitating just for a moment, James ducked out of the necklace chain. A part of him always got uneasy when he took his tags off. James could only guess that that particular instinct came from the war. No tags, no identity, no next of kin to ship your smelling carcass to. He slipped the ball and chain back over his neck.

As caught up as he was, James wasn’t paying much attention to _where_ he was. He had been sitting on a boulder, feet dangling in the water. He twirled his toes absentmindedly. Inattentive and content, James swung his feet over the rock to get out of the river.

He saw the teeth at the last possible moment. The crocodile’s jaws snapped shut around empty air with a loud smack. Without meaning to, he screamed. James tried to scramble to the top of the rock but slipped, landing in the water. _Cold, cold, cold_ \- The crocodile hissed and lunged at him again, this time catching James’ left arm. A ringing _clang_ sounded out, and the animal immediately let go. James sat paralyzed from shock as it slithered back into the water.

“James!” T’Challa came out of nowhere. He grabbed him underneath the armpits and dragged him out of the river and onto the sand. “Are you all right?” T’Challa asked, eyes wide.

He didn’t respond, eyes glued to the water where the crocodile disappeared.

“Answer me, James! Are you hurt?” T’Challa rattled his bare shoulders. Slowly, James shook his head.

“Thank Bast,” T’Challa murmured, closing his eyes. The men sat for a minute, breathing heavily. James looked at his left arm where he had been bitten. In between two of the titanium plates, a pointed yellow tooth was lodged. He removed it with his other hand and rolled it around in his palm. Had it been a flesh limb, the tooth would have sunk at least three inches into his arm. He surveyed the rest of his forearm. No noticeable problems other than a miniscule dent a few inches away from where the tooth had been. James held up the tooth.

“You should be thankful,” said T’Challa. “Not many people can say that they’ve been bitten by a Nile Crocodile and escape without injury.”

“Yup,” James muttered. _That’s me, lucky Bucky B._ He furrowed his eyebrows. What was that from? _When_ was that from? Who called him that? James curled the tooth in his hand and threw it into the river. “And stay there,” he said aloud. 

_Lucky Bucky B_. It was going to kill him if he didn’t figure it out. 

“We haven’t much farther to go today,” T’Challa said. He reached out a hand to help James up. He took it, and T’Challa smiled at him. His words suddenly registered with James.

“Wait, we don’t? So why were you makin’ a fuss earlier?”

T’Challa called back over his shoulder, “Because you are inexplicably slow!”

James rolled his eyes and grabbed his clothes before taking off after the other man.

 

As he and T’Challa were making the fire that night, it finally came to him. He dropped the wood he was carrying and rushed back over to where he set his backpack. James quickly took out the notebook and pen.

_Rebecca_

As soon as he scribbled the name, he knew it was right. Rebecca. His _sister. Fuck_. 

He had a sister.

James promptly doubled over and threw up.

T’Challa was by his side in a moment, murmuring nonsense in low tones into his ear. He felt the armor’s claws lightly scraping his back. James coughed. His eyes were stinging, though from the emotions or vomit, he couldn’t tell. He tried to stand up. His knees gave out. T’Challa caught him on the way down and gently set him back on the earth. James was grateful.

A sister. Named Rebecca. James clutched his stomach. How could he forget his sister?

“We called her Becky,” he said weakly. _Bucky and Becky_ , their mom used to say. T’Challa continued to rub his back.

“I- I,” he looked pleadingly at T’Challa, “How could I forget my sister?” T’Challa shushed him.

James stared at the fire just a few yards away. He realized something that made him choke.

“I can’t even remember what she looks like! ‘Challa! ‘Challa, I don’t even know what she looks like!” His voice broke, and the floodgates opened. James coughed on his sobs and gagged on his grief for what felt like an eternity.

At T’Challa’s careful instruction, he managed to get his breathing somewhat more controlled. James balled his fist and bit it so hard he lost feeling in it. It wasn’t working, nothing was working. He squeezed his eyes tight and focused all of his energy into breathing in and out. God, his lungs ached.

He looked down to see T’Challa wiping his hand with a cloth. It had blood all over it. T’Challa looked at him intently. “Will you let me help you?” he asked softly. Not trusting his own voice, James nodded his head. He was starting to lose feeling in his face. His breathing became even more shallow and James’ eyes flitted everywhere.

T’Challa took James’ hands in his own and held them there. With a whine, James tried to tug them away. _Away, away, had to get away_. T’Challa held them tighter.

“James,” he said, “You are afraid. You are afraid and that’s okay. But you must believe me when I say this: _you are going to be fine_. This will pass, I promise you. Until it does, just focus on me, okay?” The king’s voice was a bit scratchier than usual, but it did not break. He squeezed James’ hands.

His face was numb. The muscles in his cheeks and mouth went slack, and he could feel them shaking. In the far back recess of his mind, James knew that this was good. His face being numb was usually the last phase of his panic attacks.

His conscious mind, however, had no such comfort. James desperately licked his lips in an effort the feel _something_ , but he was only rewarded with the taste of salt and metal. He tried to tug his hands out of T’Challa’s. _He had to go, he had to leave, if he stayed here he was going to die._ T’Challa’s grip remained strong.

“James, you know where you are. I know you think the world is ending, but I swear to you on Bast’s divine name that it is _not_ and that you are _alive_ and _well_. This will pass, I promise,” T’Challa tilted James’ head so he could see into his eyes. “Tell me what is happening _right now_. Nothing about the past or future matters, just tell me about this very moment. Can you do that?”

Without meaning to, he nodded. T’Challa squeezed his hands again, “Who am I?”

“‘Challa,” he murmured.

“Where are we?”

“Forest.”

“A forest where?”

“Wakanda.”

“What is happening right now?”

James looked around, searching for something. When he finally found it, he was breathless. “Fire,” he tried to say. He cleared his throat and looked back at T’Challa, “We’re building a fire.”

T’Challa nodded to encourage him. “And what do you feel?”

“‘M scared,” he whispered.

“That’s okay, James, it’s okay to be scared. You’ll be okay. Can you say that?”

“Be okay.”

“Yes you will. Just breathe,” T’Challa pressed his hand to James’ chest over his heart. “Just keep breathing, James,” he said. And for the next few minutes, he did. Slowly, shakily, he forced oxygen to pass through his lungs at an even pace. His eyes began to droop. Within another few minutes, James was asleep.

 

The warmth on his face eventually roused him from a dreamless sleep. James rubbed his eyes and looked around. The skin around his eyes felt puffy, and his throat was still sore. 

“‘Challa?” He said, his voice scratchy.

“Yes, James, I’m here. Have some water,” T’Challa offered him his canteen and James took it gratefully. When he had emptied it, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and laid back down on his backpack.

“What do you remember?” T’Challa’s voice was quiet and gentle, and James realized that it was so he could ignore it if he wanted to. He didn’t.

“Everything, ‘m pretty sure,” he said, “‘Cept- how did I-” _Oh_. T’Challa must have _carried_ him back. James felt himself blush and he looked at the king sitting next to him. The amount of concern written on his face was touching. He waved his hand at T’Challa, “It’s okay, I ain’t gonna go off again.”

“Do you-” T’Challa looked unsure for the first time since James had met him, “Do you want to discuss it?”

“Maybe,” he said, “But first, where’s that notebook I had?” T’Challa indicated to his left and he nodded his thanks. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, James started to write for the third time that day.

When he was done, the sky was nearly dark. He looked over his work. There was nearly a page full of memories about Rebecca. James felt his throat closing up, so he quickly shoved the notebook and pen back in his pack.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right, James?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. ‘S not the first time that’s happened. Kinda surprised at how short it was to be honest.”

“Have you always dealt with them alone?” T’Challa asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “They only ever started after got out of Hydra.”

“I-” T’Challa stopped himself. James nudged the arm closer to him to get him to continue. “I-” T’Challa said, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” The look in his eyes told him that ‘Challa was _very_ worried about this, and it couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“Nah,” James said casually, “I think it helped, actually. The things you said, they- uh, they seemed to work pretty good.”

“I’m glad,” T’Challa said, “That’s what I do to help my sister, Shuri. She gets them sometimes as well.”

James sat up, “You have a sister?”

“Yes, a younger one. The first time she had such an attack was after she first killed an enemy soldier. She’s past it now. If anything were to happen to me,” T’Challa said, “She is the next heir to the throne. She will make a magnificent queen when the time comes.”

“I don’t doubt it,” James said. Anyone in T’Challa’s family would make a good ruler, from what he had heard. He looked at the monarch. T’Challa looked sad. “Hey,” he said, nudging his elbow again, “We’ll get back to her.”

“Actually,” T’Challa said with a melancholy expression, “As luck would have it, she isn’t in Wakanda right now. Eight days ago she left for a diplomatic meeting in Europe. Quite lucky, the timing.”

James nodded. He was intensely curious about Shuri, but he didn’t want to pry, so he stayed quiet. 

The silence that followed was an easy one. James laid his head down on his pack and looked at the sky. After a few minutes, he heard T’Challa lie down too. Except this time, he wasn’t across the fire. T’Challa had positioned himself so that he and James’ heads were next to each other, only half a foot apart, with their bodies going in opposite directions.

James continued to look at the sky. He didn’t want T’Challa to think he was making him uncomfortable, so he didn’t want to turn away, but at the same time, if he turned inwards then their faces would be far too close. So he stayed where he was. 

Within two minutes, James turned on his side towards T’Challa. It was just too uncomfortable to lay on his back, he felt too exposed. And it was better to be too close than too distant as far as James was concerned.

Except T’Challa was also coincidentally facing inwards. For a moment, they looked at each other. Neither man said anything and neither man moved. Each was afraid to break the fragile tie that they had accidentally formed. 

James watched T’Challa’s deep brown eyes scan his face. He could nearly guess what the monarch was looking at. His forehead. His nose. His jaw. His lips...

“Thank you,” James whispered, gently breaking the trance. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure T’Challa could hear it. He rolled over to face the other way, and he heard T’Challa do the same. Willing himself to calm down, James forced his eyes closed. He was almost asleep when he heard T’Challa whisper something.

“Goodnight, James.”

He smiled, “Goodnight, ‘Challa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh, things are getting more exciting now ;) I hope y'all liked this chapter. Btw, is this kind of chapter length good? I try to keep them shorter so I can update more often, but let me know what you guys think
> 
> And of course, you can always find me on my tumblr by the same name: lovelyauras
> 
> Ciao <3


	6. Chapter 6

_I’m going to try and write in this thing every day now, even if I don’t remember anything new. I’m afraid that I might be forgetting regular stuff, but maybe I’m just paranoid._

_Challa and I went farther today. Wakanda is apparently a lot bigger than it seems. A lot more dangerous, too. Challa showed me a snake called a “black mamba” today that can kill more than 10 people in an hour. Glad he told me about it before I stumbled into one, like I did that stupid crocodile._

_We swapped some battle stories, too. The Dora Milaje sound pretty damn lethal. Challa was telling me about this one woman, Okoye, and she does not seem like someone to cross. Challa told me that all the women are there to protect him, and I get that he is royalty, but he doesn’t seem like he needs any protecting._

_I told him about the time Gabe and Jacque were trying to talk us out of a French prison camp when they were drunk. The rest of us were dead sober, but no one could talk to the guards but those two. Challa laughed a lot when I told him that they insulted the guards so much that we earned an extra three days in the prison._

_I keep thinking about Rebecca. For some reason, when I think about how it felt to remember her, it feels so familiar. I think I might have remembered her before, just to forget her again. I wonder how many times I’ve remembered and forgotten her existence. That’s why I’ve got to remember to write everything down. (Day 3)_

 

“Hey man,” Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder, “How you holding up?”

Steve paid no attention to the question, “Did you find anything?”

Sam shook his head solemnly, “Not a thing. Look, Steve, I-”

“I know what you’re gonna say, Sam. Just... don’t.”

“It’s been over a-”

Steve glared at him, daring him to continue. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples.

“Shit, Steve, _listen to me_. I wasn’t going to suggest stop looking for him. I know you wouldn’t anyway, but have you considered that maybe he doesn’t want to come home? I know as well as you do what he’s been through, so what if-”

“Thanks for the help, Sam. See you later.” Steve’s voice was rigid and cold. The blond’s face was utterly expressionless as he turned around and walked out of the room. Sam ran a hand over his face and sighed.

 

_Day 4 of our trip. No new memories today, which was kind of nice. Challa and I talked about Afunise and Sarah. I don’t remember much about Sarah, but I told him what I did. I think it helps, to talk about them. Makes the memories more concrete._

_Challa told that Afunise is his godmother. Apparently she took care of him when he was little. He said his mom died giving birth to him. And obviously his dad was busy with royalty stuff, so he wasn’t always around. Challa said that he thinks T’Chaka would have liked me. I’m not sure what that means, but I think it’s good. He said that Shuri is really his half sister, being Ramonda and T’Chaka’s daughter. He doesn’t care though, I can tell he really loves Shuri. I wonder if I’ll ever meet her. I wonder if she would like me._

_Afunise is a healer, which I already put together, but T’Challa said that she’s actually in charge of the hospital. But they also have more “traditional” medicines he said, that have to do with religious rites and ceremonies and things. Challa hasn’t said much else about his religion, or even if he has one, but I think he does. I didn’t want to pry, but maybe I’ll ask tomorrow._

_The more I learn about Challa, the more interesting he gets._

 

The café was full of people, all gossiping in French and clinking their silverware. It put Tony on edge, being surrounded. But if this was where Natasha wanted to meet, then he wasn’t going to argue. Still, the odds of being recognized, even in a foreign country...

Tony’s heart nearly stopped when he put his menu down and saw Natasha sitting in front of him.

“Don’t do that to me!”

“Pay more attention and it wouldn’t be a problem,” Natasha grinned. She lifted her hand to call over a waiter. After he was gone, she turned back to Tony, “You’re lucky that I happened to be working in Germany this week. Otherwise we might not have gotten a chance to talk for another month.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, “What a shame that would have been, to not to converse with you for a whole four weeks.”

She kicked him gently under the table, “Stop being a smartass, I do actually have news for you.”

“About?”

“Steve.”

Tony leaned forward, suddenly desperate to know what she had heard. The waiter returned with Natasha’s coffee and chocolate croissant. She smiled at him in thanks, and the boy seemed a bit starstruck. Tony rolled his eyes.

“Merci,” He said, with a forced smile. The boy blushed when he realized he was staring and dipped his head. When he was gone, Tony turned to back to Natasha, “Do you have to do that?”

“Oh shut up, he was eyeing you too,” she said, taking a huge bite of her croissant.

“You’re just saying that so I’ll tip him more, which I’m kind of offended at.”

“You’d better not,” Natasha said with her mouth full, “Then he’ll remember you. Have I not taught you anything about subtlety?”

“You know that that’s a losing battle, Nat. So what about Steve?” He dropped his voice down.

The red head took a gulp of her coffee before replying. “Sam’s lead turned out to be nothing.”

“We both knew it was going to be.”

“Yeah, well, Steve didn’t take the news too well. Sam told me that he snapped at him, which is a first.”

Tony could feel a headache coming on. When Steve got mad at _Sam_ , he had to be in a bad mood. “So what now?”

Natasha only shook her head, “You know him better than I do, Tony.”

“Don’t be too sure,” he muttered, looking at the people passing on the street.

Her clear green eyes widened, “Are you two-”

“I don’t know, Nat. He won’t pick up when I call him, and he definitely hasn’t called me. I don’t think he’s angry at me, per se, but...” He sighed, “Nat, I don’t know what to do. He’s running himself into the ground and he only gets frustrated when people tell him so.”

Natasha’s hand found his own under the table. Tony appreciated the strength that she was trying to offer, but when he looked at her face he knew that she felt as helpless as he did.

“Nat, if we don’t find Bucky, we lose him.”

“I know.”

“And if we don’t find him soon, we _still_ might lose him.”

“I know.”

He bit his lip. Never in his life could he remember feeling so useless.

“Look, Tony,” Natasha said, “In a few days, I’ll be done in Germany and I’ll head over to Geneva. The League of Nations is having a meeting, and I’ll see if I can’t pick anything up. Until then, just try to _be there_ for him. I know you can do that.” She stood up, and Tony did too. She took his hand again and squeezed it.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

“Tony, out of all the people in the world, _you_ are the very best friend to have when someone is at their lowest. That’s where Steve is right now. When he is at his best, God knows he’s better than the rest of us, by a lot. But his lowest is worse than the rest of us too. Don’t let him fall apart, Tony. But don’t let him tear the world into pieces, either. You know as well as I do that he can.” She kissed him on the cheek, “I’ll let you know what I find.”

And with that, she was gone. 

 

_Challa rewrapped my bandages today. They’re looking a lot better. He said that Afunise tried to teach him about healing when he was a teenager, but he said it didn’t really stick. I disagreed. His hands are really steady and he moves really carefully. If he ever even bumped me without meaning to, he would apologize. His hands are really big._

_I asked him more about what he believes in. He wasn’t offended at all. He actually seemed really excited. He told me all about the Black Panther Cult and the goddess that they worship called Bast. He went on for nearly an hour without stopping. It’s easy to see that it’s something he’s really passionate about. He smiled a lot in that hour._

_I had another memory today too. It was the one with Stevie and me in mass. I’ve had it before, so I didn’t write it down._

_Challa’s hands are smooth. I thought they’d be calloused and rough because of all the fighting he does, but they weren’t. We’re still sleeping next to each other. I realize Challa only does it because it’s practical, like in case of an attack or something. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it though._

_I can’t help but wonder if I’m craving human touch in general or if it’s just him. Whatever it is, it felt damn good today when he was close to me. (Day 5)_

 

_Deep breaths, deep breaths_ , Tony thought to himself. It was just Steve. What reason did he have for being nervous around his own boyfriend?

“Hey babe?” He called into their bedroom. There was no answer. Tony went to knock on the door, but it creaked open at his touch. The lights were off.

He stepped in and looked around. The bed didn’t look slept in and Steve’s shield was gone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw a slightly crumpled note on the dresser. He took it in his hands and smoothed it carefully. His throat felt tight.

_Be back soon. Don’t wait up. -S_

“Hey, J?” Tony called.

“Yes sir,” JARVIS replied.

“Did Steve say where he was going?”

“No, sir, he did not. He said it was important, and I did not press him. I apologize.”

Tony sighed. That meant that it wasn’t an official mission. Steve always told him where he went for those, even if he wasn’t supposed to.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Mr. Wilson is also not here, sir. I believe he finally took you up on your offer for a vacation in your cottage in Maine. He said he will be back on Tuesday.”

He nodded to himself. It was good that Sam was getting away, he worked himself to the bone nearly every day. 

Tony walked back out and to the kitchen to fix himself some coffee. Like hell if he wasn’t going to wait up, no matter what Steve said.

 

_I can’t believe we’ve been gone for six days now. It feels much shorter than that._

_Challa’s leg is still giving him trouble, so I’ve convinced him to slow down a little bit. Not much, though. He’s determined, I’ll give him that._

_When we first started out, we didn’t talk much to each other. I think it was a combination of awkwardness and dislike. I can’t imagine not liking T’Challa now. Now, when we’re quiet, it’s more comfortable. I think that’s the word I’m looking for._

_I’ve noticed that I’ve stopped half thinking in Russian, too. It makes things much easier. I know I can still speak it, but it feels like I’m getting my brain back._

_My memories are still coming. They get easier each time, but I still like to write them down. Some of them I’m not sure if they’re real or not, but I think most of them are real._

_Challa and I talk about my memories at night. After we’ve made the fire, we look at the stars and just talk. He points out the constellations to me, tells me old Wakandan myths about their shapes. It’s nice. Then we do this thing where he’ll ask me to remember something he said from the night before. The first time I had some trouble, but I’m getting better at it. It helps when I close my eyes and try to hear him say it in my mind. Challa has a very distinct voice._

_Tonight he asked me to remember the story of this one constellation. It was three stars in a row that made three zebras. Challa said that it used to be his favorite when he was a kid._

_The stars here are an awful lot brighter than I’ve ever seen anywhere else. Sometimes I can’t believe that they’re the same ones from 70 years ago. The other day I remembered a night when me and Stevie were looking at the stars from the roof of his building. We couldn’t even find the north star, much less a whole constellation._

_I’m growing to like Wakanda more and more, I think. Every day, Challa shows me a new flower or a new animal or tells me a new story about his people. It’s beautiful here. Challa says that tomorrow he has something special to show me, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. It’s kind of exciting._

_I don’t really want to think about what will happen when we’re done with this mission. I still don’t want to go back to New York._

 

Not two minutes after Steve had walked in the door, he was packing his things again.

“Babe, please-”

“Tony, I’ve got a good feeling about this one. It’s him, it’s gotta be,” Steve said, stuffing shirts into a duffel bag.

“And if it’s not?” Tony said. It had come out harsher than he meant it to, but he was reaching the end of his rope.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, “Then I’ll keep looking.” He crumpled his shirts up with more vigor than before. _Not good_. Steve always folded his clothes when he was packing.

Tony looped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, “I’m sorry, that came out wrong, but-” Steve disentangled himself to reach his sock drawer, “-honey, I’m just worried about you.”

Steve wasn’t even listening. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, “Then I’m gone.” Tony caught his hand as the blond was turning away.

“ _Steve_ ,” he whispered.

Tony could tell that Steve was struggling not to pull out of his grip. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He asked, his voice still soft.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Steve said. “I’m talking to you right now.”

The distance in his tone was what broke Tony. He bit his lip, his eyes stinging. “Babe,” he said, “Please just talk to me. What did I do? What can I do to make it right?” He pulled Steve to sit on the bed with him. Tony pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s hand, then his arm, then his bicep, working his way up to the blond’s face.

Steve was silent. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t reciprocate. “Tony...” he said.

The brunet looked at him with eyes as big as the moon, and Steve’s heart broke just enough.

“Tones, I don’t think you realize how important this is. Every second I’m here, I could be letting an innocent man die. You don’t know what he’s going through,” he stood up, “He could be scared and alone and believe that nobody is ever going to find him.”

Tony stood up too, “You think I don’t know how that feels? Do you not remember how I got this?” Tony tapped on the arc reactor glowing through his shirt. “Trust me, I _do know_ what he’s feeling, at least to some degree. And Steve, I _do know_ how important he is to you. If he’s half as important to you as you are to me, then I one hundred percent understand. But, babe,” he said, clutching Steve’s hands, “You can’t save him if you get yourself killed.”

As Tony spoke, Steve was flooded. Guilt that he had forgotten about Tony’s time as a prisoner, anger that Tony would try to compare their love to what he was doing for Bucky. He tried to reel himself in, “So why are you making this so difficult for me?” He asked.

Tony half sobbed in frustration, “ _Because you are going to get yourself killed!_ ” He grabbed Steve’s face and forced him to look back at him, “Steve, it’s not just me. _Everyone_ is worried about you. You might have forgotten, but you have friends here. We are all willing to help you find Bucky, but only if you show half an ounce of self preservation! You can’t be cruel enough to think that we’re all going to help you dig your own grave, even if that is what you want!”

Steve only looked at Tony with a mournful expression. Tony didn’t understand, he didn’t know everything that Bucky had done for him. He was sorry that he made his friends worry, but Bucky needed him, and he had no one else in the world to rely on.

“Tony,” he finally said, “You know I can’t give up on him.”

“No one is asking you to,” Tony said, “We’re just asking you not to die for him before you’ve even found him.” He sighed, “You need sleep, you need real food. Just because you’re on a mission doesn’t mean that you can forego basic human needs. Can you do that? For me? For Nat and Sam and everyone else?”

Steve nodded, but he still didn’t seem convinced. 

Even before he said it, Tony hated himself for it, “Do you really think Bucky would want you to do this to yourself?”

The blond looked at him, and slowly he shook his head. Tony wanted to cry in relief, but now wasn’t the time. He tugged on Steve’s hand, “Come on. Showering is another one of those things that you have to do now that you’ve recognized you’re only human.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, kissing Tony’s cheek. “Will you get the water ready?”

Tony kissed him back and went to their bathroom.

Steve watched him go, his heart aching a little. He loved Tony, he truly did, but...

He sighed. Opening the balcony door, Steve stepped into the cool city air. The streets were more quiet than he had heard them in a long time. Probably because he hadn’t been awake at 3:14 am in a long time.

Steve was used to not being able to see the stars. New York was the City that Never Sleeps, after all. Even so, the stars were still there, whether or not you could see them. Just like Bucky.

The only time Steve could ever remember seeing the stars while still in the city was in the summer of 1939. Everyone was still afraid that they were going to get bombed by the Germans at that point, so they still had blackout drills. He and Bucky had snuck up to the roof of his building, and that night they saw more stars than they had ever imagined could exist. That isn’t to say that they knew what any of them were, but they could still at least see them.

Maybe, wherever he was, Bucky could see the stars. Steve wondered if he remembered that night. It was unlikely, but possible. He took one last look at the starless sky and went back inside, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update, yay! Come yell with me on tumblr (lovelyauras)


	7. Chapter 7

T’Challa was utterly _adorable_ when he was excited. He had practically pranced through the jungle from the moment they had put out the fire that morning. More than once James had to remind him of his broken leg. Even so, his smile was blinding as he hurried James along.

As much as he trusted T’Challa, James couldn’t help but feel a bit apprehensive. What if he hated whatever T’Challa was going to show him? James knew he wasn’t great at reading people, but he could tell that whatever this thing was, it was important to T’Challa. He only hoped that he could reign in his feelings in time, if they turned out to be negative.

In the end, he needn’t have worried.

Around midday, when the sun was at its brightest, highest, and hottest, T’Challa finally told him that they had reached their destination. Faintly, James thought he could hear running water, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. 

“Close your eyes,” T’Challa said giddily. James rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He suddenly felt a pair of large hands on his waist and breath on the back of his neck. “Walk forward,” T’Challa whispered. 

“‘M I gonna trip?” James joked, trying to distract himself from his heavily beating heart. His friend chuckled at him, but said nothing. He felt leaves pass over his face for a moment, then the warmth of the Wakandan sun. T’Challa let go of him, and James took that as his cue to open his eyes.

_“Oh my God._ ”

The glade surrounding them was the closest thing to paradise that James had ever seen. It was surrounded by some of the highest trees that James had seen in all of Wakanda, and the vines that hung between the trunks made a barrier that was impossible to see through. In the middle of the glade, an enormous pool of water sat surrounded by uneven rocks. Feeding into the pool was a series of sparkling waterfalls. A bright rainbow arched across them.

James couldn’t remember ever seeing something so beautiful. He looked at T’Challa in awe, not even sure what to say.

“It’s magnificent, no?” The serenity on the king’s face reflected exactly what James was feeling inside. He could only nod.

T’Challa continued, “I have seen nearly every corner of this earth, and I have yet to see anything that compares to the divinity of these falls.”

“Do they have a name?” James asked, still trying to take it all in.

“They’re called the Warrior Falls,” T’Challa said. He turned to James with an expression of sheer joy, “I think it’s a bit hot, don’t you agree?” Before James could even process what was happening, T’Challa was racing towards the water.

“‘Challa, wait!” James ran after him.

“You couldn’t outrun me before, you certainly can’t now, James!”

When he got to the water’s edge, T’Challa started stripping off his catsuit. Upon this sight, James, predictably, stumbled. Right into T’Challa.

There was a loud splash and then the king was gone. James frantically crawled to the edge and searched the water. It was surprisingly deep for how close it was to the shore. He squinted at the spot where his friend had disappeared. Seeing nothing, James quickly wriggled out of clothes. He was preparing to jump in when a dark hand shot out of the water, grabbing him by the ankle. James yelped in surprise and the rest of T’Challa emerged. T’Challa gave a hard yank, then James was in the water too.

Thankfully, the water was warm enough to keep him from going into shock. He swam back towards the surface and pulled himself out. James wiped his face and shook his hair out.

“The hell, ‘Challa?” He said. He wasn’t angry, not really, just a bit riled.

The king only laughed at him from where he was treading water, “I didn’t take you here to enjoy the view! The water’s great, as you now know! There aren’t even any crocodiles.”

James ignored the crocodile comment, though his lips _might_ have quirked at it. “Isn’t that sacrilegious or something? I’m hardly Wakandan royalty, ‘Challa.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes, “The Warrior Falls are not exclusive to anyone, James. You are as welcome here as I am. Though I appreciate the sentiment,” he added. “Now come!” He splashed James, who narrowed his eyes.

“You’re gonna live to regret that, Catman,” he said, “You don’t know what you’ve just started.” He took a running leap into the water, nearly landing on top of his friend. James utilized T’Challa’s surprise and pushed him under the water, latching his arms around him like a koala. T’Challa remerged laughing. He viciously tried to shake James off, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Wait, James, I just thought of something,” T’Challa said, “But you have to let go of me.”

“I’m insulted that you think I’m that gullible.”

“I promise! You have to let go, we’re going to jump off the falls.”

In his surprise, James released him. “We’re going to _what?_ ”

“You heard me, come!” He was already climbing out of the pool. James allowed himself a half second to admire, then he followed.

“You’re joking, right? We can’t even get up there!”

T’Challa only scoffed at him, “I’ve done it many times before. My siblings and I used to come here every other week to dive off the cliffs.”

“I thought you only had one sibling? Do you have another sister?” 

“Two brothers, actually,” He stopped walking abruptly, “Hunter and Jakarra. I haven’t seen either in many years.” T’Challa shook himself, “All you have to do is climb that tree,” he pointed, “and there is a branch leading to a ledge that you can scale. It’s perfectly safe, I promise.”

“‘Challa, I don’t doubt that, I mean if you say it’s safe then I believe you, but you have a _broken leg_. I’m sure that you’re agitating it enough by not wearing your suit, so what kind of person would I be if I let you go _cliff diving_?” James asked. He hated to break T’Challa’s spirit, but he didn’t want him to get hurt.

T’Challa’s face fell. James felt his heart crack, and he cursed himself for being such a pushover. 

“Ugh, fine. But only once! I don’t need Afunise to kick my ass,” He groaned. T’Challa’s expression lit up again, and he started scaling the tree. He gestured for James to follow. James sighed and did so. As he climbed, he couldn’t help but wonder where else he would be willing to follow T’Challa.

 

Down a 50 foot drop, apparently. Honestly, the height still worried James a little bit, but T’Challa could not be convinced to go any lower. 

“You’re sure that there’s nothing sharp beneath us?” James yelled over the roaring water.

“I’m certain!” T’Challa yelled back, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Not at all! But like hell if I’m gonna let you do it alone!”

T’Challa smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “Do you trust me?” He asked.

He didn’t hesitate, “Yes!”

“We’ll count to three together, okay?” The king said. James nodded. 

“One-” James looked at T’Challa.

“Two-” There was so much mist that a double rainbow had formed directly in front of them.

“Three-” Both men squeezed their hands and jumped.

As James was falling, he felt like his internal organs had been misplaced. His heart was in his throat and his stomach was in his chest and for the life of him he _could not stop laughing._

James screamed in equal parts fear and delight as he descended towards the earth. Beside him, T’Challa was laughing too. It was one of the most terrifying and spectacular things that he had ever experienced, and it was all his. There would never be anyone to take away the memory of that moment.

Too soon, the two men splashed down back to earth and reality. James rose out of the choppy water and shook his head, looking for T’Challa. Each fresh breath of air felt like victory, and he wanted to cheer. He had to know if T’Challa felt that way too.

The king was just a few feet to his right, still wiping water out of his face. James swam over to him. They looked at each other, grinning like idiots. James could tell that T’Challa was on the same rush of adrenaline and hormones that he was on. He could see why T’Challa liked such a thing; he felt as though he had just cheated death. 

“Is it always like that?” He finally said, breathless. He had to shout to be heard over the falls.

“I think-” T’Challa said, panting, “I think that one was better.” He smiled at James, and James felt his heart fly into his throat again. Just like when he was falling.

“I can’t believe we just jumped from all the way up there!” James said, looking up at the ledge. The double rainbow glistened randomly, and mist fell into his eyes.

“Pardon?” T’Challa said. The waterfall behind them was still roaring.

“I said-” He tried again.

T’Challa laughed, “You said what?”

James rolled his eyes and swam closer to the king. When they were only inches apart, he leaned over to T’Challa’s ear, “I said I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Oh,” T’Challa nodded, still grinning from ear to ear, “Yes.”

It took James a moment to realize that he was still treading _very_ close to the other man, but he couldn’t find a reason to move. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, letting the mist fall on his face. For a second, he merely floated on the choppy water, feeling his heart slow to its normal pace once more. When his grey eyes opened, T’Challa was looking at him intently. His expression was unlike any that James had ever seen him wear.

James felt T’Challa’s steady hands on his waist under the waves. T’Challa wasn’t treading in the water; he was just tall enough to stand comfortably. James stopped treading too, trusting the other man to keep him afloat. Slowly, T’Challa pulled James closer to him. His heart took off again at an even more frantic speed.

Unthinkingly, he reached out for the king’s shoulders. His right hand brushed over T’Challa’s smooth and muscled chest, directly over his heart. James gave a small smile when he felt it beating as fast as his own. Somewhere far away, he heard the waterfall. 

James slowly traced his trembling hand up T’Challa’s body. His collar bones, his neck, his jaw. He cradled his face, feeling his soft stubble. He looked at T’Challa, and the man’s eyes were closed. Encouraged, James ran his thumb over his curved lips. Immediately, T’Challa sighed and leaned even more into his hand. His warm breath on his palm sent a shiver up James’ spine.

Lazily, James moved his hand to the back of T’Challa’s neck. His pink fingertips barely skimmed the king’s dark skin, only just close enough to pull at the droplets of water there. His thumb rested behind T’Challa’s ear. James drew himself even closer.

For a small eternity, he and T’Challa stayed motionless, just millimeters away. Beside them, the falls thundered like drums, steady and constant.

In the most tender motion he could manage, James closed the gap between them. Their lips touched softly and sooner than expected. He felt the hands on his waist tighten, and T’Challa pulled him nearer still, pressing their chests together. James reciprocated by pushing T’Challa’s head closer. He nearly moaned aloud in relief when the pressure between their mouths increased. 

T’Challa gently pulled away and rested his forehead on James’. The men looked at each other through misty eyelashes.

“Do you trust me?” T’Challa asked for the second time that day. Though now, James could tell more was on the line than a momentary leap of faith.

“Completely. Do you trust me?” James echoed.

The king nodded. He moved one hand to James’ hair, and James almost groaned again. He wanted more, he wanted T’Challa to take advantage of his trust, to _touch_ him. He wrapped his long legs around the other man’s waist and hooked his arms around his neck. He didn’t want T’Challa to waste any more energy holding him up.

T’Challa quickly got the message, running his hands up and down James’ chest before settling them in his wet hair and on his jaw. His hand trailed down his neck to James’ dogtags, and he wrapped the ball and chain around his finger. Using the necklace, T’Challa gently but firmly pulled James’ lips back to his. That time, James _did_ moan.

The water from the pool covered both men’s lips, making the kiss a bit slippery. James’ lips slid away from T’Challa’s when he tilted his head, leaving his mouth on T’Challa’s cheek. He planted a swift peck on the spot and then pulled away, laughing softly at their lack of coordination. 

T’Challa started walking slowly over to the falling water. James looked at him in confusion. T’Challa only pulled lightly on his dogtags again, bringing James closer to him. “Wanna show you something,” he said into his ear. His voice was rougher and deeper than it usually was. James felt teeth on the soft skin of his earlobe and he would have sworn he had died. In that moment, T’Challa could have taken him to the mouth of hell and James would have _gladly_ gone in.

James unhooked his legs from T’Challa’s waist and let himself be led to the edge of the falls where the water merely dripped instead of torrented down. James screwed up his face as they passed under the falls. T’Challa wiped away the drops from his eyes. “Look,” he said.

James opened his eyes. They were standing in a small cavern with a high ceiling. A rocky ledge separated the floor of the cave from the water of the pool. James hoisted himself onto the rock and looked around the cave. It took him several seconds to realize that the walls were literally sparkling. 

“Vibranium runs through the rock,” T’Challa said. “It means we are getting close to the mound where the heart shaped herb grows.” He rested his elbows on the stony shelf, looking up at James.

James brushed his fingers down against T’Challa’s face, “Nearly there then. You’ll have your powers back soon.”

The king only hummed in response.

“So this,” he gestured to the cave around them, “is kinda like a secret in another secret, yeah? Secret cave in a secret meadow.” 

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Does that mean that it should only be used for secretive things?”

T’Challa quirked his eyebrow at him, “Perhaps. What sort of secretive things are you suggesting?”

James leaned down to him, “Kissing the king sounds like a good idea.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” T’Challa said softly. He began to close the distance between them before James abruptly pulled away.

“Great!” He said, “Let me know if you see one.” 

T’Challa huffed indignantly and splashed him. James tried unsuccessfully to get out of the way and shrieked at the chill of the water. Inspired, T’Challa lifted himself out of the water and onto the floor of the cave.

James’ eyes widened, “No, no, no, ‘Challa, I’m sorry, no please-”

With no regard for James’ pleas, T’Challa wrapped himself around the other man. He forced James to lay down and completely covered him with his own body. James gave a pitiful whine at getting wet and T’Challa laughed at him.

T’Challa looked into James’ eyes from above him. A drop of water ran down his nose and onto the other man’s face. T’Challa followed it with a swift kiss.

“It’s ‘Your Royal Highness’ to you, sir,” T’Challa said, feigning disapproval. James rolled his eyes and shoved him off.

“Well, _Your Royal Highness_ ,” James said sarcastically, looking at him, “Maybe it would be a good idea to go back in the sun and dry off, as well as put your _broken_ leg back in its brace. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Then why are we waiting?” T’Challa said. 

Together, the two men dropped back into the water and made their way out of the cavern.

 

When James woke up, T’Challa was looking at him. They were spread out on some rocks in the sun, napping like cats. T’Challa was propped up on his elbow. His brown eyes ran over James’ body and limbs as he stretched. The metal arm glinted.

“Your Majesty,” James said, smiling sleepily. He leaned close to T’Challa, obviously hoping for a kiss. Instead, T’Challa ran his fingers through his long hair, brows slightly furrowed.

“Hey,” James said, “What’s wrong? Your leg hurt?”

T’Challa shook his head. He sighed and rolled over to his back, looking at the sky. “James,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“You know that I am a king.” 

“Uh huh,” James said, not sure where T’Challa was headed.

“You realize that I- that there are- _gbaga_ ,” he tried. James had never seen him so at a loss for words. He tried again, “So you must know, that as king, my responsibilities to my country, to _Wakanda_ , they are the utmost priority in my life.”

“Yeah...” James said.

“James, what I am trying to say is that this may prove to be more harmful than you can anticipate.”

It took him a second to realize that ‘this’ was referring to their relationship. Despite what T’Challa had just said, his heart did a giddy somersault. T’Challa was already thinking about long term stability. 

“In this case, I am speaking from experience,” T’Challa said, mistaking James’ dazed silence for one of disbelief. James opened his mouth to respond, but the king’s words caught him off guard. It had never occurred to him that T’Challa might have had previous relationships. He restrained himself from asking all the questions that immediately came to him, and instead nodded for T’Challa to continue.

“When I was still the prince, I met a woman named Ororo. Ororo Monroe. She was, or, rather is, a force of nature,” T’Challa smiled to himself, “And I mean that quite literally. Her powers allow her to manipulate weather. Rain, lightning, air. Everything. In some parts of Africa, she is even worshipped as a goddess.”

The king squinted at the sun above them. “When I first saw Ororo, she was flying through the sky on wind. She rescued me. I had been kidnapped and was greatly outnumbered, and she heard my cries. Without her, I am certain I would have died.” He looked at James, “I was thirteen. She was twelve.”

Many years later, our paths crossed again. At first it was only for a mission, but we became very close and fell in love. We were engaged, even,” T’Challa said. James’ eyes snapped up. “Obviously, it did not last. Ororo’s duty to her friends far outweighed her affection for me, and my own duty to Wakanda did the same. But I must stress this to you, James,” he said, “ _I_ was the first to distance us. I threw myself into my responsibilities. Now, of course, hindsight can provide valuable perspective. I realize now how overwhelmed I was. And how terrified. I was so frightened that I would forget my country in a moment of importance that I drove Ororo away.”

James felt a bit sick. How was he meant to compare to a goddess that flew into T’Challa’s life like a literal angel?

“James, what happened this afternoon-” James braced himself for the worst, “It scares me twice as much as what Ororo and I shared. I am _beyond_ petrified of what I think I would do for you,” He touched James’ face gently, and James covered T’Challa’s hand with his own. The look in the king’s eyes was heartbreaking. “And that’s after only a few hours. I cannot _ever_ let anything stand in the way of my responsibility to Wakanda.”

“‘Challa,” James said, “What makes you think that I would ever ask you to choose between Wakanda and _me_? Man, I know who’s winning that fight. _I_ would be upset with you if Wakanda didn’t win that fight.” He rubbed his thumb on T’Challa’s hand.

“Why must you be so good?” T’Challa whispered. “James, it is not you that I worry about. It’s me. If everything was on the line, I know that I would choose my country. I’ve been king for long enough for me to allow trust in myself. But if that meant losing you... I don’t know what it would do to me.”

James didn’t know what to say. He wanted to kiss the uncertainty off of T’Challa’s face, but he didn’t want to make it worse. The king made the decision for him. He pressed his lips to James’. It was sweet and wistful and heavy with implication.

James sat up on the rock and dragged T’Challa with him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he knew what his own mind was saying. _If this is the last, make it count._

He pulled himself onto T’Challa’s lap. He just wanted to be closer. He wanted to wrap himself around T’Challa and never let go. He looped his hands behind the king’s neck and pulled him nearer. T’Challa greedily accepted. His hands settled on James’ hips as he deepened their kiss.

It was a clash of fragility and severity. Their hands were gentle in their caresses but also hard enough to bruise. James felt T’Challa bite his lip. When he let go, James went to his throat and T’Challa immediately bared it for him. He licked and he bit, tasting the salt of T’Challa’s sweat. His teeth dragged against T’Challa’s dark skin as he went up his neck and to his ear. James smiled to himself. T’Challa’s ears were still adorable. He tugged on the king’s earlobe and heard T’Challa swear under his breath. T’Challa took his face in his hands and lead him back to his lips. After a moment, they parted.

“James,” T’Challa said, “Do not misunderstand me. I am not giving you up. If you will have me, I am still yours.”

“But-”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we ever come to it,” T’Challa said, grazing his face with his lips. 

For a second, James was struck silent. He couldn’t believe that T’Challa, a warrior, a hero, a _king_ , was so willing to sacrifice for him. He wasn’t worth it, he knew that. T’Challa would realize it too one day. But until then, T’Challa wanted him. And he knew he wasn’t going to be able to deny that man anything. 

He intertwined T’Challa’s fingers and his own. 

He had spent 70 years devoid of feeling and want. It felt too damn right to throw it away the first chance he got. If he wrecked himself in the process, so be it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Civil War was a thing that happened. Goddamn. Expect something from me about that soon. (Soon being when I finish this sucker)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter. They finally smooched, yay!
> 
> ily <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed this! Feedback and criticism is 100% welcome, so don't be shy. Hopefully I can keep my shit together and update this regularly.  
> Check out my tumblr: http://lovelyauras.tumblr.com/ :)


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